Why only two opinions to every issue?
Why only two political parties?
Why only left and right?
Right and wrong?
Good and bad?
Green and ripe?
I prefer red white and blue.
Words that rhyme with orange.
And twenty kinds of potato chips.
Kissing the lips of the women I loved and
Every kind of candy imaginable.
Think about it.
WATCHING MY CHILDREN
Watching my children loving their children and their children’s children almost encourages me to stop beating myself for all my meanness when drinking.
Every time there is a video from my son and his grandkids, I recognize his words; he is copying his “Good Old Dad”.
Like the starling, every living thing known to man seeks unity.
Like the ant, every living thing including man, follows a focus which may not be traceable.
Only Man may say “Let me off at the next corner”.
THE LIAR’S BECK and CALL
Out of the shadows she came
With untamed melodies
Nothing had changed
Except the ferocity
Of the Liar’s
The shadows shall reclaim
What had appeared to be unborn
And much, much more shall be revealed.
(The headstone said “I thought I was cured.”)
JOHN MET CATHY AND THEN…
He was a quiet one; yes he was; always alert to solutions to the many problems of a given day, an inventor on the lookout for a better way to get a desired result in less time; here a tweak, there a tweak, everywhere a tweak-tweak…
And then John met Cathy.
To bed and beyond, his moments of studious repose now naught but a memoire, his lab rats mere pets and his need for intellectual stimulation limited to thirty ways to tie a knot in the silk appendage now dangling daily from the collar of his Saville Rowe shirt, John looked around the art gallery and vowed to change his name, arresting his quest for the old life. He would abandon all and become Rupert the Right.
Goodbye Cathy Dear, here; you may have this as a memoire. Unbuttoning his collar brought a sigh that became a gasp as his lungs inflated with the promise of freedom and new frontiers; “Here is my tie with the Windsor knot; the knot is naught but a naughty memoire. Keep it” he said. “hang it on the bed post” he added.” And Rupert nee John, once left (now right) went shopping.
I was six years old and very inquisitive. So much so that Father often called me Curious Abner.
I asked my father one Saturday during a lunch break at The Broom Family Clothing Store what the difference was between a Hat and a Cap. His reply:
A Hat has a brim and a Cap has a bill.
What about women?
We call them women (a barely discernible grin.)
No Lovey (Mother and I called Father Lovey); on their heads
Too many categories for women son, everything on a woman’s head is a hat.
That lady over there is trying on a scarf. Is that a hat?
It’s time to get to work Abner.